


Pain To Belay Pain

by HenryWithACause (HenryBoyThatsMe)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Coping Mechanisms, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Painplay, Past Child Abuse, Power Exchange, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryBoyThatsMe/pseuds/HenryWithACause
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've come to the conclusion that because of the pain I suffered during the month of my imprisonment, I now unconsciously connect all pain to that experience. But you're different."</p>
<p>"Different, My Lord?"</p>
<p>"When you touch me it doesn't feel like a violation, and our contract ensures that you cannot cause me any true harm. I believe that if the pain comes from you I will remain aware of myself and my surroundings, and - given time - I believe I can come to associate pain with you, rather than with that unfortunate memory."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain To Belay Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This story will contain BDSM elements, however while the practice has existed for about as long as sex has, the vocabulary that we are now familiar with has not. This being said, my goal is still to represent healthy practices, so there will be scene negotiation, safewords, aftercare, etc., but it just won't be referred to as such. Also the nature of the BDSM elements will evolve over the course of the story. In the beginning Ciel does not see pain as something pleasurable or something that could potentially tie into his sexual relationship with Sebastian, but that will change as he discovers his sub space.

The floor is cold, and a humid, chilled draft blows through the dark space. Ciel can hear the sounds of a struggle and the wet impact of a blade piercing skin. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. Doesn’t want to see which one of them it is this time. Dosen’t want to see how few of them are left. And of course there is pain. There is always pain. The draw isn’t between lucky mercy or unlucky death. It is filthy hands doing as they please until boredom or ritual sacrifice mark their end. He shivers as more stale air blows through his thin clothing, the metal bars digging into his back not helping in the least, and tries to wrap his arms around his body in a feeble attempt at warming himself. The raw skin of the brand throbbing under the pressure of his hand.

Wait.

No.

That is all wrong.

The brand isn’t raw. It isn’t raw because it isn’t new. It’s old, _years_ old. And his clothes aren’t thin, they are of the high quality one would expect for a person of his station, he can feel the breeze because his jacket and waistcoat had been taken earlier when he had been forcibly searched for valuables. The bars he can feel are not bars, but rather the slats in the back of the chair he is sitting in. Or... chair he's tied to. Well, that’s certainly a bother, but at the very least he is grateful not to be bound on the dirty floor. There is no cage, no other children, no cult. All of that is years in his past. It is a closed chapter in his life and the man responsible is dead. Now, there is a drug den, some idiots who seem to believe they can make their own rules, and Sebastian. Sebastian swiftly taking men down with a flick of his wrist and a well aimed butter knife. Although, when Ciel opens his eyes and attempts to turn to see if his butler will be finished soon, he realizes that his brief fit of nightmarish memory had, in fact, not been entirely wrong. While his brand might not be hurting, he was definitely in a fair amount of pain. His head pounds sharply and he can feel the telltale cracking of what must be dried blood on his left eyelid; one of those rat bastards must have knocked him unconscious! He can also feel his sides radiating with the ache of bruised ribs. Ciel opens his right eye, feeling more dried blood crack and flake off of his forehead as he does so. Enough is enough, he is ready to be back at his manor.

“Sebastian! Quit playing about and take me home!”

His demon turns glowing red eyes on him from his place atop of a table littered with filthy, drug stained pipes. “Ah, Young Master, you’re awake. Of course sir, I apologize for dawdling,” Sebastian responds, the dark, silken charm of his voice accompanied by the thud of a silver fork making contact with the head of the last man who had been foolish enough to stay and fight. Sebastian hops down from the table with his usual grace, quickly moving about the room to retrieve Ciel’s belongings before approaching his Young Lord. He kneels down as he nears the chair and tears through the ropes binding Ciel as if they are nothing more than paper, then returns the stolen rings to their proper fingers and redresses him with the usual vigilant care expected of a proper butler.

“When we return to the manor I will write to Her Majesty and inform her that this den will no longer be an issue,” Ciel states as his coat is buttoned, “I’ll also take dinner in my study, and something light, I feel slightly ill.” Sebastian lifts him from the chair, wary of his injuries, but unable to completely avoid the inevitable flare of pain brought upon by movement. Ciel wraps his arms around his butler’s neck and tries to keep from cringing.

“Ill Master? Shall I prepare some medicine for you as well?” The concern in Sebastian’s voice is infuriating. Just another part of his demonic act meant to hide his sick enjoyment at Ciel’s moments of weakness, jumping on any chance to treat the Earl like a helpless child.

Ciel is quick to shut down the teasingly sympathetic edge that laces Sebastian’s words, “No need to patronize me, it’s not that serious. A light meal should be satisfactory.” He grits his teeth through the pain in his head and ribs and holds his chin high. Abandoning his aristocratic pride - even in front of the creature who has seen him in his most utterly taken apart and worst states - would be unacceptable and unthinkable.

Sebastian bows his head with an amused grin. There really is no match for the unique stubbornness of nobility. Just one of the many charms of humanity for which his young Lord seems to have a particular affinity and attachment. With one more utterance of the familiar “Yes, my Lord,” he leaves behind the dank warehouse and moves quickly in the direction of the Phantomhive manor.

 

* * *

 

“Take me directly to my room. I’d rather avoid any comments from the other servants,” Ciel orders as they approach the mansion. His head hurts enough as it is, the last thing he needs is for three loud, grating voices to make it any worse.

“I understand, sir,” Sebastian says, keeping a firm grip on Ciel as he leaps onto the various ledges of the estate until they reach the window of the master bedroom. Sebastian opens the window and slips inside, carefully depositing the Earl on the edge of the large bed at the center of the room. “Now, allow me to tend to your injuries before I begin to prepare dinner for you.”

“Fine.”

“Very good, sir. I shall return shortly.” Sebastian stands, bows, and exits to the adjoined bathroom. Once there, he collects two basins and a small assortment of clean cloths. He fills one basin with warm water, returns to the bedroom, places the lot at Ciel’s bedside, then leaves again to retrieve antiseptic, salve, and bandages. Upon completing this task he again returns to his master’s side and begins to strip him of his clothes, folding them and placing them aside to be laundered as he does so, and retrieves a clean shirt, waistcoat, and jacket to put on once he is finished. Ciel’s left side is an angry red and has already begun to turn purple at the center, a shade that will likely spread throughout the evening. There is still a fair amount of dried blood decorating his face, the source being a gash just under his hairline which is surrounded by more bruising. Sebastian picks up one of the cloths from the bathroom and soaks it briefly in the warm water, he then wrings out the excess liquid and begins to wipe at the flakes of blood on the little Lord’s head.

Ciel closes his eyes and relaxes to the minimal extent that he is able. Sebastian’s movements are soothing and he starts to feel slightly better as the grime is wiped away. A wet cloth is no substitute for a real bath, but it would do for now as he could not waste time with a bath just yet. He can distantly hear the sounds of water hitting metal as the cloth is wrung out into the empty basin before being re-wet with clean water, but most of his focus is on the feel of Sebastian’s hands on his face. He’s taken off his gloves and Ciel leans into the damp skin of the hand that cups his face, while the other works gently to clean him. When the blood is gone, Sebastian drops the wet cloth into the basin of dirty water and picks up two new cloths, he pours a small amount of the antiseptic onto one before bringing them both up to Ciel’s forehead. He then holds the dry cloth above Ciel's eye to protect it from any drops of solution that might fall. “Master, why did you insist on going into that den alone first? I could have easily prevented them from harming you.”

“Her Majesty has still not completely forgiven me for the incident at Baron Kelvin’s estate and as such is still watching me rather closely. In light of that, I wanted to try diplomacy before violence... Evidently that was a mistake,” Ciel explains while Sebastian wraps his head wound with bandages.

"Even so, you could attempt to be diplomatic with me at your side."

"I don't need your input. Why must you always have the last word?" Ciel retorts, his usual scowl deepening. He lays on his side once the dressings on his head are secured, letting out a small breath of relief when the pressure on his ribcage is released. Although, even with the added comfort of reclining, there are certain obstacles that present themselves in this new position, the most prominent of them being the undeniable truth of his fatigue. The hour is not an issue, for they have returned from previous outings far later than this, but the day has been quite trying on both his body and mind and the inevitable resulting onset of exhaustion is creeping its way in and making his eyelids rather heavy.

The sudden cold of salve touching his skin, followed by an uncomfortable pressure on the tender area startles Ciel into alertness once more. He lightly grips the bedsheets and bites his lip to fight off the pain while Sebastian continues his ministrations. "I am sorry Master, but it will be soothing once it sets in." Ciel nods and watches Sebastian's black tipped fingers move in circles across the bruised skin on his side, relaxing again as the pain becomes predictable and almost comfortingly rhythmic with Sebastian's movements. When the butler speaks again the sympathy in his voice seems to be more for himself than for his injured master, "I do hate that you had to suffer this abuse. Our nighttime activities should be put on hold to ensure you recover properly, and while it is in your best interests I find it to be _deeply_ unfortunate."

By this time the salve is sufficiently applied and there is no longer any excuse for Sebastian's caressing hands and looming presence above him. Now is far from an opportune moment for such suggestive conversation, and as such the young lord makes it his duty to put a quick end to his butler's inappropriate train of thought. "For a supernatural being, you have the basest human desires. I have to work and so do you. There's no time to entertain your sick regrets about my body," Ciel scoffs, shoving at Sebastian's shoulders to give himself room to sit up. 

Sebastian laughs, but obliges the insistent hands of his master by standing and retrieving the replacement clothes. Ciel cooperatively holds out his arms and is redressed in silence. With that done, Sebastian collects the dirty clothes and the items he'd used to treat Ciel's injuries, and bows once more, "If there is nothing else you require, My Lord, I will now go to prepare your dinner," he says, and after receiving an affirmative nod, leaves the room and heads toward the kitchens. 

Once alone, Ciel heaves and deep sigh and carefully climbs down from his tall bed, making his way out of his room and down the hall in the direction of his study. As he sits in the large, ornate chair and begins to pen a letter to Her Majesty to inform her of the day's events he thinks back to when he'd been tied to that chair, how he had been under the impression that he was back in the cage as though he was still nothing more than a helpless child. It is an unfortunate and endlessly irritating occurrence that shows its ugly face far more often than he would rather admit. He thought that killing Kelvin would put an end to the constant torment, but the incident in the den made it clear that the flashbacks are something he still needs to be concerned about. Oftentimes he is subjected to the dark illusions when out performing his errands for the Queen, when separated from Sebastian, and when he is in pain. His duties as the Queen's Watchdog are not uniform enough to make sense as the cause, her tasks for him vary and the visions still follow. Separation from Sebastian can't possibly be the answer, while they may be bound by the contract and their carnal pleasures and while Ciel strongly relies on him as his butler, their separation is not nearly stressful enough to induce such a reaction. After all, they are apart at this very moment and Ciel knows that the cult is nothing more than a memory. The answer that makes the most sense is pain. In that month he experienced more pain than any other time in his life before or since. It was therefore logical for him to associate being in pain with being trapped by the cult. But logical or not, he wants it to end. The past should stay in the past. The memory is a dark enough stain on his life without him having to relive it every time he gets hurt. The job of the Queen's Watchdog is dangerous and injury is bound to occur in the future just as it has many times before, so if his distress is truly caused by pain he needs to figure out a way to put a stop to the apparent association. 

He recalls the pain he'd felt when Sebastian was applying the salve to his bruised side, and how the familiarity of the touch had relaxed him, despite the fact that it's impossible for hands pressing into a new injury to ever be deemed a comfortable feeling. Sebastian is safe. The details of their contract dictate his loyalty and honesty. There is no need to trust him because his betrayal is quite literally impossible. He is the guaranteed constant in Ciel's life. Until the time that his wish is fulfilled he will be kept alive and well by this demon simply because their deal does not allow for any other outcome. And in this vein, even pain at the hands of Sebastian does not present any kind of threat or reason for fear. 

With this in mind, he quickly finishes the letter he's writing and waits for the knock on the door that will alert him to the arrival of his dinner, and with it his butler. 

 

* * *

 

Sebastian comes through the door of the study with a tea set and a covered dish atop a metal cart. Ciel waits patiently while the food is placed in front of him and the tea is poured, watching the steam climb towards the ceiling and starting to eat as he collects his thoughts. "Sebastian, there is a matter that I would like to discuss with you."

"Yes, Master?"

Ciel swallows his food, puts down his utensils, and looks directly at the demon standing tall on the other side of this desk, "I want you to hurt me."

Sebastian looks entirely taken aback by the request and the look on his face is almost comical. After a few long seconds of stunned silence he finally manages a response, "I beg your pardon, My Lord?" 

"You heard what I said," Ciel retorts, breaking eye contact and returning to his dinner.

"Indeed I did, but I have to say I do not understand why you would ask this of me." 

Ciel sighs and again puts down his fork and knife so that his attention is not divided, "Earlier today, when I awoke in the den to find myself bound and injured I thought at first that I was in the cage. It was as if the last few years did not exist and I was still trapped in that horrible place. And it's happened before. In my nightmares and other times when I've gotten hurt while working on cases. I understand that I can't control my dreams, but I do not like the idea of not having power over my waking mind, it is unpleasant, undignified, and I want it to stop," he pauses for a moment to orient his thoughts. Sharing in this depth and detail feels too close to an admission of weakness, especially when he can just order Sebastian to do this and doesn't truly owe him an explanation.

His statements are met with an inclined head and a look of slight confusion, "Master, I understand why you would not wish to be plagued by such visions, but I don't follow how my hurting you will help."

"I've come to the conclusion that because of the pain I suffered during the month of my imprisonment, I now unconsciously connect _all_ pain to that experience. But you're different."

"Different, My Lord?"

"When you touch me it doesn't feel like a violation, and our contract ensures that you cannot cause me any true harm. I believe that if the pain comes from you I will remain aware of myself and my surroundings, and - given time - I believe I can come to associate pain with you, rather than with that unfortunate memory." His eyes had wandered as he spoke this last and when he finishes he looks to Sebastian for a reaction. 

Sebastian is grinning softly. It's an expression he often keeps to himself, reserved for the quiet moments of the night after he's left his master's bed when he thinks about the feisty brat who holds the lead on his metaphysical collar. This latest request is definitely one of the most interesting that he has been posed with in his time as the Phantomhive butler, and he would be lying if he said his intrigue wasn't making his mind race with the possibilities that open up with such a wish. He cannot deny that after everything the boy has put him through that causing him pain will feel like a breath of the freshest air the world has to offer. However the image of his little lord red and bruised and bleeding, of controlling his pain as he controls his pleasure, it stirs something deeper in him than just his casual desire for petty revenge. He wants to hear those lips cry out and beg for mercy in the same way they beg to come, and when he's done he wants to kiss them and taste the salt of tears. 

"Well? Are you going to give me an answer or do I have to make it an order?"

The Lord Phantomhive wants something from his butler and who is he to refuse?

Sebastian walks around the desk so that there is no longer anything separating them and drops to one knee at the side of his master's chair. With his head bowed and his hand over his heart he answers, "Of course, My Lord."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to apologize in advance because I am a SLOW writer. I promise to update and I promise to finish the story, but I do not have a schedule and my life can be busy, stressful, and unpredictable. Just please bear with me, I'm doing my best.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated and definitely serve as motivation and butt kicking for getting new chapters out :}


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